Vita Nuova
by MayaHJ7
Summary: Kay based: Christine's life has altered a lot since her experiences at the opera house, but now she'll have the chance to discover the mystery of the man she can't forget.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Don't sue me. It's not worth your time or money. Apart from the 7.50 I make an hour minus state taxes and such, a few books, cds, DVDs and movies you won't be able to squeeze much more out of me.

Summary: Basis storyline thus far: Christine goes on a crusade to discover Erik's past (it's a looooonggggg story!), meeting new and old acquaintances of Erik's. Some good and some bad. Some from my imagination, some from Leroux and some from Kay. Other than that it's all pretty choppy from there on out (meaning I haven't really thought it out beyond chapter 7 :P) Hope you all like it. I'm having fun with it!

Hugs and peaches,

Maya J

August 17, 1882

To say that the day started off well would be a complete lie. The dreary gray clouds that hung overhead, the fog that hugged the cobblestone street, the chill of the air and the ever present threat of a down pour of rain were enough to put anyone out of good spirits. Instead of going out in the abysmal weather I decided to stay at home, finish some work and read a book. Halfway into my novel the bell rang notifying me that I had a visitor. At the door stood a small boy, no older than ten years of age with a somewhat precariously placed letter bag wrapped around his small frame. He held a rather large envelope out to me and asked, "Are you Mademoiselle Daae?"

Nodding that I was he handed me the letter and waited to see if any response was needed. Seeing the redness in the boys cheeks and eyes, I invited him inside for a few moments, regardless of if I did have any reply to at least keep him from the cold for a few moments. Once inside, I broke the wax seal that held the piece of paper together only to have a small pile of papers fall onto the floor. As I bent down to retrieve them the young boy was at my side and helping me. Once all the papers were cleared away, he smiled at me briefly and handed me the small haphazard pile he held in his hands. "Here you go, mademoiselle."

Thanking him, I looked a the papers for a split moment, I noticed with a sort of detachment that they looked familiarly like legal documents. Placing them on my reading stand, I looked over the primary piece of paper and scanned it briefly. However, once I was done reading it I found myself having to read it again, just to assure myself that I wasn't imagining these words. However, the bold black handwritten words guaranteed me that I wasn't. Sitting down, I gestured for the little boy to sit down as well. I had just finished brewing some tea all but ten minutes prior to the boys coming and when I saw the child's hands shivering, told him that he was more than welcome to take a cup or two. Thanking me profusely, I allowed him to serve himself as I once again took in the contents of the letter. It read:

__

'Mademoiselle Daae:

It is with great misfortune that I must write to you to announce the passing of your aunt, Mademoiselle Kirsten Lamont. As her estate agent and lawyer in taking care of all of Mademoiselle Lamont's last financial settlements, it has come to my attention that you have been endowed with a certain amount of money and property at the total sum of 400,000 francs, not including the separate lands and crops on her estate in the Italy that has also been left in your name. Your presence is requested as soon as you are able to allow yourself to come to my office here in Brittany at the address enclosed with second copies of the documents your aunt entrusted to me when the writing of her will was commissioned.

Please accept my heartfelt sympathy for your loss.

Signed,

Eduard Charmaine'

400,000 francs? I didn't even know that the woman owned that much money! Then again there isn't a great deal that I know about her. All I knew was what I had gathered from my father and from meeting her after my parent's deaths. She had been very kind to me both times, especially since she was the one who had been there the day my father passed away.

Putting the letter down, I glanced at the little boy who was munching on a tea cookie I had placed on a plate. Not bothering to reprimand the rudeness of his assumption, I instead took a sheet of paper and wrote a short message to give to the boy to convey to whoever had asked him to deliver the message to me. Writing that I would come to Brittany immediately, I gave the boy some spare change I had and asked him to give this to whoever had asked him to give him the letter he delivered to me. Nodding enthusiastically and thanking me copiously, I saw him to the door and went back to the letter. Grabbing the documents from the letter, I peered over them for the better part of an hour. By the end of that hour I saw that I had inherited not only a great deal of money, but bonds and property. The bonds were now officially mine and the aforementioned property was a manor off the Western coast of Italy in a town named Terracina which lay halfway between Rome and Naples. The mansion, along with a dozen and half tenants, a small vineyard and apparently a fleet of awaiting servants were all at her disposal as of the moment I met with my aunt's lawyer. It was also mentioned that another estate that my aunt owned on the island of Sicily was entailed to a cousin of mine that I had never heard of by the name of Armand Lamont. Apparently my mother had a brother who married fairly well and produced a son out of that marriage. It truly is amazing what one learns in a day, especially about one's family!

Never before in my entire life have I felt as overwhelmed as I did in that one moment. I had never really had much money before and I've often found myself only one step away from homelessness. Ever since I left the opera….well, maybe I should put that another way; since I clearly was not wanted at the opera house, I've taken up some small forms of employment, namely as an independent seamstress. It paid the bolls well enough and yet now I find myself not needing to do it anymore. Feeling considerably mystified, I grabbed one of the nearby gowns I had been working on yesterday and started work on it. By the time I felt reasonably calm enough to think rationally, I was able to put down the gown and notice that I had just about stitched the gown hem to the waist. Throwing the elaborately beaded gown into the chair next to me with disgust, I thought and thought about what to do, who I could possibly turn to. Of course the most logical person would be Raoul. However, I had broken off our engagement a few weeks ago and I don't think he would be pleased to see me quite yet.

That was a rather interesting story in itself. We had been quiet serious about getting married and I was as happy as could be, but then something changed. It wasn't so much a feeling or inclination that changed my mind, but rather the very real possibility our of future unhappiness. We were at a party one night after the formal public announcement of our engagement when I overheard a married couple. They either knew I was nearby or they did not care and I heard them call me a barrage of names pertaining to my moral decency, my position and social status, as well as my dubious career as an opera singer. I had been hiding behind the white marble pillar in the foyer when I finally revealed myself. The woman, a Madame Lelone was holding a glass of bubbling pink champagne, laughing at her latest string of insults that no doubt included me. Her husband, a short, balding, overweight man by the name of Monsieur Jacques Lelone paled in embarrassment as his wife, who obviously hadn't taken notice of me added, "Considering Isabel Furnier has been saying that she's very taken with the Vicomte de Chagny and that she's three times prettier than that Daae woman, it seems that the boy is a fool. I mean, that girl is really not that beautiful, she doesn't seem very clever and she has no taste in fashion." Her husband grabbed his wife's elbow as the group all finally acknowledged my presence. Many women put their feather and lace fans up to cover their flushed cheeks while a scattered few men quickly finished off their drinks while the rest stood in a sort of shocked embarrassment. I took a few steps toward Madame Lelone and stared me down as she stuck out her jaw defiantly and looked down on me haughtily. Walking so that I was all but a few inches away from her face, I regarded her with just as much rebellion and instead of saying anything, I decided to be the bigger person. Walking around her, I went to the valet and asked for my cloak. Deciding to let Raoul find his own way back, I hurried out of the large mansion and went to the carriage.

When the carriage jerked forward and started to rock into motion, I sat in the back wrapping myself deeper and deeper into the coat. The woman was a vain and petty woman , but her words hurt. Maybe they were true after all. Maybe that Isabel girl was the best thing for him. She was a beautiful girl with long flaxen curls, blue eyes, a waist about as thick as the leg of a table, charming , generally a kind person and, if the rumors I had heard proved to be true, richer than Cereous. Me? I'm a girl with completely un-manageable brown curly hair, brown eyes, far too thin for my own good, dreary, often vindictive, I let my imagination run shamelessly wild and poorer than the day I came into this world. What did I have to offer Raoul? Not to mention the continuous fights he and his brother got into over our engagement. The more and more I thought about it, the more and more uncertain I became. Going home, I sent the carriage back to the party, feeling the beginning stages of guilt work their way into my mind for abandoning Raoul as I did at that party and went inside to think it over. Now since that single seed of doubt had been placed into my mind, it was growing and flourishing with each passing moment.

To take my one true friend away from his family, his friends and make him live a life of abject poverty, when he was obviously so familiar to a life of privilege and comfort made me feel like a self-centered woman. No, how could I do that to him? That night I made up my mind: I wouldn't marry Raoul. The next day, I went to his home and confronted him about it. At first he was too taken aback to respond, but once he had shaken off that feeling, he started to protest that he knew the risks involved in marrying me and he was willing to accept them, but, to give myself due credit, I stood firmly. I told him my thoughts, my idea of what our future would be, the culture shock that would be involved when he came into my world, as I clearly was not wanted in his. I decided it best to leave the goings-on of the previous night as he would want to confront Madame and Monsieur Lelone. As much as I care about Raoul, his attempts at chivalry never cease to amuse me. Always fighting for my honor, which he had yet to comprehend was a lost cause being that I was an actress and with that came certain assumptions.

He asked me a string of questions such as, "Why are you breaking off our engagement?", "Do you not love me?", "Have I done or said something wrong?", "Can I fix it?" and, "Will you please reconsider?" After I answered all of his questions, he was left with no other choice than to accept that I was refusing to marry him. When the conversation died away and silence prevailed, his voice, thick with emotion, asked, "What will you do?"

"Find work, I daresay."

"That will be hard for you," he commented. "May I help?"

Shaking my head, I sighed, "No, thank you, but no. I'm afraid that if you did help, it hurt more than it would help." If he had wanted to help me, it would look as though I had lost my reputation, doubtful as it was, and was being cared for as his mistress.

"Well, I suppose this is farewell," he commented shortly.

"Not farewell, I hope," I added while standing up while holding out my hand to shake his. He folded his arms against his chest and stared at my hand impassively.

"I believe that it would be best for the present time," he remarked coolly. It hadn't been my intention to hurt him. It truly hadn't, but when you're breaking off your engagement, I suppose there really is no other way to lessen the pain. Nodding, I grabbed my reticule from off of the chair I had thrown it onto and looking back at him, I muttered, "I truly am sorry, Raoul."

Shrugging carelessly, he turned his back on me. "Good bye, Raoul."

I left the house in a low mood, but with a lighter conscience. The news of our ended engagement spread like wildfire through out the better half of Paris and even made the 'Gossip' section of the L'epoque. More than one note had been slipped under my door in explicit language calling me oh-so creative and original names referring to me and places where I was going in my after life. Instead of taking them to heart, I tossed them into the fireplace where the fire consumed them greedily, leaving the ugly words a mere pile of gray ashes.

That was two months ago and I still hadn't the knowledge of whether Raoul would want to see me. At this moment, I could truly use his advice. He would one day be one of the richest men in France and he most likely know what to do. I contemplated my options for a few moments before finally deciding to chance it. Going to my writing desk, I pulled out a thick manila envelope and put the legal papers and the letter regarding my aunt's passing and went out to catch a cab. When I finally managed to hail one down, I climbed in and instructed the driver where to go. After a rather tedious ride out to Raoul's chateau, we at length arrived and after telling the coachman to wait for me and that I would not be long I took a few moments to gather my courage before climbing the stone stairs to the door. Grabbing the ring to the large door knocker, I lifted it and hit it against it's post twice. After a few short seconds, the door was answered by the familiar old face of Raoul's head butler , Joseph. His face didn't conceal his shock at my sudden reappearance, but he quickly put on his mask of carefully guarded indifference and said, "Good day, Mademoiselle. How may I help you?"

"Good day, Joseph. I was wondering if you could tell me if Monsieur Raoul is in?"

Nodding, he added, "He is in his study, mademoiselle."

"Would please tell him that I am here and wish to speak with him on a matter most important?"

"Of course." Motioning for me to wait in the foyer, he declared, "I will go up right now. Please wait there."

Looking down at the envelope in my hands, my heart started to pound so violently I was fairly certain that if it were to go any faster it would give out completely. I waited in anticipation for Joseph to come downstairs. I wouldn't have been surprised in the least if it were a refusal. Taking the envelope in both of my hands nervously, I watched as the dark clad, white haired butler came down the grand staircase, a look of apathy on his face. When he was on the last stair, he announced, "If you will follow me, mademoiselle."

Walking up the divided staircase, I looked around myself as if I were a stranger in the house, noticing that nothing had changed, and oddly a little disconcerted that it hadn't. Joseph led me through the hallway of the larger East wing of the house and when we reached the study, opened the door and announced me. Raoul was standing with is back toward the door, looking out of the large paned window with his hands knotted together tightly behind his back. When Joseph left the room, I stood quietly while waiting for Raoul to turn around. When he did he averted my eyes and sat down in the rolling red leather back chair that was behind the large desk. Leaning back into it, he finally looked at me and offered me a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk. Sitting down while muttering a 'thank you', I put the envelope on my lap and waited until he spoke before I opened it to reveal it's contents.

After a few moments of silence, he asked, "You wished to speak with me?"

"Yes, I do. " Opening the envelope, I shifted through the stack of papers until I reached the letter I had received from Monsieur Charmaine, I found it and pushed it across the desk . "Would you be good enough to read that?"

He picked the piece of paper up and read it. The ticking of the desk clock and the shifting he made in his chair were the only sounds in the room as he scanned the contents of the letter. When he was finished, he folded it and after a few more moments, opened it and re-read it. When he finished reading it a second time, he put it on the desk carelessly and remarked, "Well…this is very exciting for you, I should imagine."

"Not exactly," I replied while I pulled out the entire pile of papers and pushed those in suit across the desk for him to examine. Taking the up, he flipped through them and when his examination was complete, he shook his head and said, "I'm entirely certain whether to congratulate you or give you my condolences."

"I know this is amazingly presumptuous of me to ask, but what do I do?"

"What do you do?" he echoed while putting the papers down and looking at me curiously.

"You will one day inherit a fortune just as large. No, I'm sorry, I stand corrected, yours is considerably larger and I want to know what I am to do know."

Thinking over the question, he finally suggested, "Accept it graciously and spend it recklessly?"

Smiling and letting out a small laugh, I shook my head and retorted, "Apart from that?"

Making a futile gesture with is hands, he explained, "I don't know if I'm the person to talk to about this. You forget that I was raised very differently than you and I…" Shutting his mouth quickly, he tried to excuse himself by saying, "Please excuse me, that extremely tactless."

"The truth isn't tactful," I countered back. "Please go on."

"I was raised in a certain lifestyle, personally and socially, and the family funds have always been in Phillipe's name so I'm not really quite certain of what you are to do."

Sighing loudly, I nodded sadly and leaned forward to leave. What other point was there in my staying when it was still tremendously awkward between us. It was my foolish going at all really. However, he leaned forward and gestured for me to stay put. "Maybe you should speak with Phillipe about this? He really would be the better of the two of us to ask," he proposed while standing up fully to go to the door. "Joseph!" he bellowed after he had opened the door. The elderly man appeared within mere moments and Raoul requested, "Go and fetch my brother."

Coming back to sit down, he asked to me to push my chair over while he put another one next to mine. I was surprised when he sat in the chair and not his previously occupied one, but then I remembered that Phillipe was the eldest of the two brothers and therefore had seniority. A few minutes he joined us and the look of absolute distain was not lost to me as he took his sear opposite me. "Well, hello again, mademoiselle and how may I be of service to you?"

Too curious to get his answer than bother with the monotonous formalities, I once again slid the papers across the desk and waited for him to take in their words before I spoke again. "I see…." he muttered while looking through the deed to the manor and after a few moments put it down and said, "Please accept my most humblest apologies for your loss, mademoiselle, but might I ask as to how I may be of any service to you now?"

He obviously thought that now that I had money that I was under then assumption that he would be more than delighted to see Raoul and I engaged once again, but I'm not as great a simpleton as he'd like to imagine. "I would like your advise on how I should take care of these affairs. I'm not used to dealing with financial matters of this magnitude and I was curious as to if you had any advise to offer on my situation? Whether I should hire a personal banker or if I should invest?"

Taking a few more papers up, namely the copies of the bonds, he suggested, "Mademoiselle, never employ a personal banker. It is my experience that they are all dishonest men and seek nothing more than to play their employers. I would also be very wary of investing if I were you. Frankly, were I in your position, I would simply take this manor, the money, the bonds and go whatever you wish with them. Sell the manor if you wish, but advise the spending of your money. Perhaps…." He trailed off and then lacing his fingers together into a fist, brought it up to his mouth in a thoughtful manner and suggested, "If you will trust me, I would willingly take on your financial problems."

Smiling at him gratefully, I knew that while he and I disliked each other on the grounds of our completely different social backgrounds, I knew he wouldn't steal from me. He was unlikable, yes, but he was no thief. Plus, he was savvy enough with his family's affairs that I had no doubt that he would manage mine well enough. "Thank you, Monsieur le Comte. I would be most grateful."

"Very well," he nodded with a brief, business-like smile. Picking up a pen, he pulled out a sheet of paper and said, "Let's discuss your assets first. "

"Well, there is the manor, as well as the vineyard which I believe produces a rather fashionable local wine and from what the details on the property says there are sixteen tenants my aunt was responsible for."

Nodding while he wrote this down, he added, "Then you are aware that you will have a somewhat steady, if slightly humble income from the wine and tenants."

Assuring him that I was aware, for the better part of the next three hours we talked, while poor suffering Raoul sat in silence. By the end of this time we decided that within the next five years I will have accumulated 406,123 francs. When that was completed, Phillipe instructed, "Go and see Monsieur Charmaine as soon as you can so that we can get an exact estimate before you decide to do anything." Looking at me while stopping his organization of the papers he had written out, he asked, "Was there anything in particular you were planning to do with the money?"

Shaking my head, I added, "I hadn't given it a great deal of thought. I don't know."

"Well, if you do decide to do anything, do let me know so that I can figure it into the income," he requested while recommencing his task of putting the papers together. When he was finished, I announced that I must be leaving as it was growing late and my carriage had no doubt left. Raoul leapt up as if he had touched a live wire and received a great shock and said, "I will see you home." Feeling rather than seeing Phillipe's reproachful stare, I quickly refused, "Oh no, please don't put yourself out. I can manage my quite well. I like walking and it will very nice for me to gather my thoughts. It has been a rather trying day and I would like the opportunity. Thank you for your thoughtfulness though."

"Please, I insist," he persisted, but I once again thanked him, but assured him that I needed the time to think. "Besides, it really isn't that far of a walk."

"Raoul, leave the lady be!" Phillipe added peevishly, but not without a twinge of humor. The really humorous part of the comment was that he had called me a 'lady.' He had never acknowledged me as such before and now that I had inherited a fortune, I was miraculously a lady, regardless of my past career.

"Thank you both for all of your help and have a lovely night. Good night." I bowed and turned to leave the room.

"At least allow me to walk you to the door?"

Grabbing the envelope full of the papers, I nodded and said, "Thank you." Turning, I held out my hand and shook Phillipe's. "Thank you again, Monsieur. Until we meet again."

"Until then."

Taking my hand back, I walked out the door with Raoul following me. When I was at the door, he took the handle and opened the door while standing next to it in a fashion similar to that of Joseph and I smiled at him. "Thank you for all of your help, Raoul."

Shrugging, he added, "I just wish I could have been more helpful."

Assuring him that he had been, I walked to the threshold of the door and prepared to go home however when my hand went to the marble hand railing, Raoul grabbed my elbow gently and halted my progress. Looking at him curiously, hoping he wasn't thinking what his brother was fearing, he instead asked, "Are you all right? You just lost your aunt and….well, is there anything I can do for you?"

Covering the hand that had moved to my shoulder, I shook my head and assured him, "That's very kind of you, but I'll be fine. I just need a few days to think over everything. Although your brother has tried to convince me that everything will be well, I still can't help but feel uneasy."

"That's understandable," he agreed, shaking his head in accordance. Taking a step forward and dropping my hand from his, he inquired, "Christine, this woman obviously loved you dearly to live such a hefty sum as your inheritance, but why have I never heard you speak of her?"

"I've only met her twice before. I met her after my mother died, but I was only four then and I met her after my father died when I was almost seventeen and my aunt really didn't have the temperament, mind or time to take in a child. I was already so close with the Valerius' family that when they offered to take me in, I couldn't see any other reason not to stay with them."

"You weren't close with her, you say? You don't think that…."

The sentence was never completed, but I didn't need him to finish it to catch it's implications.

"You think that because she didn't take me in that she left me this money as a way to assuage her guilt?"

"No, I didn't mean it that way!" he quickly defended himself. "I didn't mean to imply that at all! I was going to say you don't think that your aunt knew that you were in need of the money, do you?"

I still couldn't quite let my frown to transform into a smile, but I can denied that I tried. Instead I took a few more steps towards the stairway and rejoined, "Perhaps, but we didn't keep a great deal of contact during the last five years. She may have been in better contact with my cousin, but I don't really know. I've never met my cousin, you see and when I go to the estate, I'll meet him there no doubt. I think my aunt left me this inheritance because she didn't have an heir and I suppose my cousin and I were the next logical choice. It's so sad though…." Raoul had been listening inventively with a look of pity on his features. He shook his head sympathetically and put a hand on my shoulder in a gesture of compassion. I managed to force a smile on my lips, but it felt forced and no doubt looked as it was. "My aunt must have spent a good deal of her life working for what she accumulated over the years and all in a moment, she was gone and all of her labor was for nothing. I don't deserve this. I've done nothing to merit it!"

Raoul shook his head vehemently and insisted, "No, that isn't true one bit! You deserve this inheritance more than anyone I've ever known in my life. You have had so much sadness and unjust events occur in your life that even though it is said that money can't buy happiness, you'll be able to do a good many things that you've wanted to do. You've always said how much you'd like to go back to Sweden and now you have the opportunity. You have a vineyard and manor in Italy if I remember correctly and may I say from my own experience that Italy is not a place to miss. I believe you would be very happy there or do you plan on keeping the land?"

I could only nod that I didn't mean to sell. "I would like to inspect the estate before I make any decisions pertaining to it's sale. I would also like to meet the tenants and see how depended they are on a master, or in this instance a mistress. There are others to consider other than myself. There is also my cousin to take into account. It may also be vastly possible that my cousin and I will have joint supervision of the estates. Apparently my cousin is inheriting an olive plantation in Messina on the island of Sicily. The production of the olives and the vineyard I own could make us a good candidates for partnership. The olive oil and wine industry are particularly successful in Italy and with the right amount of business savvy I wouldn't doubt if it became lucrative in given time."

"You are rather ambitious, aren't you?" Raoul answered back with a laugh that made me smile. As much as I adored Raoul he did have the most ridiculous laugh! It was like a giggle and a guffaw, often inane and they were all combined into one laugh that was uniquely his. I shrugged at his comment and countered, "I should have mentioned my cousin to your brother though. The idea of merging businesses with my cousin didn't occur to me until a few moments ago."

"Not only are you ambitious, but it would appear that you're impulsive as well!" he added while folding his arms. He seemed to ponder my statement before he remarked, "The last time I went to Italy, and please don't mark my words too seriously, I remember the constant use of olive oil and so your cousins industry would do rather well, but the Italian wine commerce is in constant competition with the French. After all we French are well known for our wines, as is Italy I will grant you, but I want you to be prepared for the rivalry that it comes involved with."

I thanked him heartily for his warning and guaranteed him that I was well aware of the time, money and emotional strain it would tax me with. I took a glance upwardly at the sky and saw that the bright orange of sunset was slowly dissolving into the inky blackness of night. " Oh my, it's growing dark and I'd like to get home before the streets of Paris aren't as safe as they could be."

Taking my hand in his again, he pressed the top of it to his lips and whispered, "I am sorry for your aunt's passing."

Squeezing his hand, I muttered my thanks for his condolences and said my good-byes once again. This time he didn't attempt to detain me and I took my leave of the manor with a slow leisurely pace. To speak truth, the dangerous streets of Paris didn't frighten me. I had grown up in areas of Paris that were worse when I was with my father. I felt confident that I would be able to care for myself should worse come to pass. There were times when I had been accosted by men who were a little worse for wear from a night of heavy drinking and had been approached by more than my share of those drunken men who thought it was great fun to whistle and basically make fools over themselves for a girl. The walk from Raoul's home to my flat wasn't a short one and I knew that I would be home within an hour, give or take a few minutes. By the time I was on the outskirts of my neighborhood, I took notice of an open bookstore. I had a few francs on my person and all of a sudden a smile lit up my face. I had always been excessively careful on how I used my finances and I hadn't been allowed to spend very much money on luxuries such as books. This wasn't the case now though. I had some extra finances that were going to allow me to buy a few books.

I went to the door and pushed it open. The bookstore smelled of ink and paper and I adored the smell! Ever since I was a child, I always loved the smell of books. No matter how poor we were, my father always kept his books readily accessible and read to me constantly. I had read all of Aesop's fables, the Hans Christian Anderson and Grimm Brother fairy tales, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and Just So stories. As I grew older I read the works of Bronte, Austen, Moliere, Shakespeare and just recently, the works of play-write Henrik Ibsen. However, there were a world of books that I had yet to read and I wanted to read them. The elderly bookstore owner looked at me as I entered the store and smiled at me briefly before returning to the papers he had been pouring over before I came in. I walked along the wood shelves that were lined with hundreds and hundreds of books. They were all there….. Shelley, Bronte, Austen, Hardy, Dostoevsky, Hawthorne and all the newest plays. I snatched up copies of "Far from the Madding Crowd", "Persuasion", and "Wuthering Heights". Nothing else took hold of my attention enough to consider purchasing it and I went to the man to buy my books. When I paid for the books, I felt a certain degree of freedom run through me. This sort of financial liberty was refreshing in a way. Not to say that I wanted to spend my entire inheritance on nonsensical things, not that books were nonsense, but now I didn't need to feel guilty when I indulged myself. Besides, there were only so many times one could read Shakespeare's works without eventually wanting to toss all the books on the fire.

The shop owner took the money and handed me my books with a look of pure boredom on his face and wished me a good night. Thanking him, I left the store as quickly as possible to escape the surly man behind the counter, as he obviously wished not to be disturbed and he didn't look like a person that you would want to annoy. When I arrived home a half hour later, I put the books down on my reading table next to my battered hard back copy of 'Much Ado About Nothing.' Sitting down, I looked at the small desk clock I had on the bookshelf to my right side and saw that it was 9:00 p.m. I was always a bit of a nocturnal creature, never getting to sleep before midnight and, even though the walk from the de Chagny manor was a long one, I wasn't tired in the least. Looking on the table where I had earlier allowed the message boy to drink the pot of tea I had made, I noted that the teapot was still relatively full of cold chamomile tea. Taking it over to the sink I emptied the auburn liquid out and put the empty pot in the sink once the liquid had drained completely. Grabbing the saucer that the boy had drunk from, I put that in suit after the pot and contemplated washing them. Deciding against it, I went over to my books and grabbed one, not really caring which on I chose. Glancing down at the hard green leather bound book, I noticed that I had grabbed "Far From The Madding Crowd." Opening it up to the first page, I started reading. "When Farmer Oak smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they were within an unimportant distance of his ears, his eyes were reduced to chinks, and diverging wrinkles appeared round them, extending upon his countenance like the rays in a rudimentary sketch of the rising sun. His Christian name was Gabriel…" As I continued reading on, I frowned.

The character of Gabriel reminded me of…. oh no! I nearly dropped the book at the thought. How could I have put off such an important date at that one? What sort of fool am I? Erik…I had promised him a hand delivered wedding invitation. That had been nearly six months ago! How could I possibly go back now to a man who could quite possibly be very ill or dead and give him an invitation to a wedding that had been called off? That would be immensely difficult if he had in fact passed away. Grabbing the small tower of recently purchased books, I put them on the bookshelf for safe keeping. It was at that moment that I regretted above anything else in my life that I had thrown away all of my wedding invitations in a moment of self pity.

What am I to do? I promised and so did Raoul. How he must hate me! What am I to do?

To Be Continued…..


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Don't sue me. It's not worth your time or money. Apart from the $7.50 I make an hour minus state taxes and such, a few books, cds, DVDs and movies you won't be able to squeeze much more out of me.

LostSchizophrenic: I'm so glad that you like it so far. Thank you so much for the review! hugs

Peppermintoreo: Thank you! As for the books, I'm actually going with Kay's version which is set 10 years later than the film in 1881. Thank you though for being so nice about liking it!

Now, I have a small request; I need a beta reader. I frankly suck at editing, so if anyone would be kind enough to beta my stories, I would be eternally grateful. Thank you much! If anyone is willing to do this, please e-mail me and peaches,

MayaJ

August 19, 1882

It would be a respectable assumption to say that in my life I've had my fair share of death, but this… nothing prepared me for this. Nothing! When I arrived at the opera house, a hastily made faux wedding invitation clutched in my left hand, I couldn't help but feel a substantial deal of uneasiness as I approached the stone steps that led to the foyer. As I climbed up the stairs, I saw a group of chorus girls coming down the opposite side toward me. The first girl in the group who took notice of me had to be Annette, a girl whose tongue couldn't hold still if you put a lock around it, and she fairly blanched at the sight of me. I had limited control over my annoyance as I saw her turn to the rest of the assembly of girls and whisper something hurriedly. Unexpectedly all of their eyes turned onto me and I all but stopped in my steps as a roar of giggles emerged from the pack. Turning my head to the ground, I could feel a heat rising to my cheeks , although not necessarily in embarrassment. Their snickers meant amusement to them, but to me it meant that they must be saying things such as "Oh, the Viscount must have tired of her," or "Her reputation was always in a great deal of danger and I suppose that she has finally lost it all together!" Never mind the truth in their eyes, but in its place I decided that my pride was all I had left at this time. I held my head up high and pretended that I didn't see them and made my way through the enormous arched doorways.

When I walked into the lobby the usual bustle was happening as they no doubt prepared for which ever next production was and no one paid me any attention. Looking around I felt a sting of regret and pain. I missed singing immensely and hadn't sung in what felt like an eternity. Shaking off the unpleasant feeling, I walked until I reached the large marble divided staircase in the main foyer. Walking up the first few steps, my heart skipped a beat, not positively to say the least, as both owners of the opera house appeared at the top of the stairs. They had just come from the auditorium and both men poured over some papers that Monsieur Andre had on his person and Monsieur Firmin started irritably complaining about. The former man looked up briefly and took in my presence. He paled and his jaw fairly hit the floor in a rather dramatic flourish. He grabbed the man standing next to him and started whispering something in a low voice. Sighing at the futility of my convincing them to let me in my old dressing room, I almost turned around but the words of my promise to Erik kept repeating themselves into my mind, taunting my lack of courage.

Taking a deep breath, I descended up the staircase clutching the letter tightly in my hands, absently willing myself not to harm the invitation and advanced on the two men. Monsieur Andre pulled his pocket watch out of his waistcoat pocket and started winding it up, as if this small task would prevent the inevitable confrontation. I proceeded with caution as both men regarded me as if I were this centuries black plague. When I was reached the top of the staircase, both men bowed respectfully and muttered, "Mademoiselle" and I, in turn, bowed. Monsieur Andre was the first to speak and asked me, "May we be of service to you, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes, if you'd be so kind," I responded. "I'm afraid that when I left the opera house I left a rather valuable necklace in my dressing room. I was wondering if it had been found?"

Monsieur Firmin, the least liked by myself, shook his head a bit too enthusiastically in my own opinion, and replied, "I'm afraid I haven't heard anything pertaining to a necklace. If you'll leave an address to which we may send it should we find it, we'd be honored to send it to you."

"Oh," I muttered, trying to gather as much sorrow as I could into my voice and nodded sadly. "Thank you." My resentment for the two men grew. It was very feasible that I wouldn't be able to go to the dressing room if those two had their way. The feeling only intensified if the managers knew of my recent financial improvement they would allow me to into any room that the opera house had. They might have very well have tried to sell me a season ticket! However, I really didn't want one. My main concern was if I did tell the managers about my inheritance that by tomorrow morning all of France would know. I did not know if either men were as gossip courting as the rest of the company but the thoughts of risking discovery worried me greatly. "Is there any possibility that I could go and look for myself? I would not take long and you may appoint an escort if you deem necessary."

Monsieur Andre looked skeptical and Monsieur Firmin was on the verge of telling me that I was being presumptuous and so deciding to put my developed acting abilities to good use. I quickly explained, "The necklace was my grandmother's you see and I can not imagine what I would do if something had happened to it."

Monsieur Andre regarded me, no longer with disgust or fear, but with sympathy. Guilt spread through my veins like a disease at the lie I was telling. I'm not naturally a liar, I swear, but it really was only a white lie. So much was dependent on getting to my dressing room and ultimately to Erik's home. Monsieur Andre looked at Monsieur Firmin, who seemed to be considering it. Finally Monsieur Andre said, "Very well, mademoiselle, but don't be long. "

Thanking both men profusely and assuring them I wouldn't be long, I hurried down to the grand staircase and fairly flew backstage. Once I was in the corridor that my dressing room resided I walked up to the white door and felt a wave of trepidation wash over me. Grabbing the bronze handle, cool to the touch, I turned it and pushed open the door. Darkness greeted me when I stepped inside the icy room. Making my way as best I could to the small dressing table in the corner, I opened one of the drawers and felt around blindly for the box of matches I had left. Once my fingers brushed across them I opened the box and grabbed a match. Striking it against the side numerous times it finally caught fire and gave off a small flame. Quickly I went over to the oil lamp and lit the wick. Once the oil soaked wick caught, I put the glass cover on it and looked around the room. Taking a few deep breaths I walked over to the mirror, not entirely certain how to open it. Pushing on the glass harshly to see if it would move, I groaned loudly when I knew inwardly it didn't. I felt around the frame of the mirror to see if I could find some sort of mechanism that would give away the secret passage.

After a few moments of deep thorough searching, frustration started building up inside of me. The mirror did not move in any way for all the pushing in the world. However, one echoing thought that kept running through my mind was to break the mirror. I turned on the mirror viscerally and gave it a savage kick. Waiting for the inevitable sound of shattering glass and the small chime as the glass shards hit the ground, I was surprised when neither happened. Looking at the mirror, I saw that it remained intact completely, looking as if nothing had occurred at all, but there was one difference; the corner of the mirror was pushed back slightly. Turning my head curiously, I put my hand between the wood frame and the cold smooth glass and pushed ever so slightly. The mirror swung open in a similar fashion as a door would and beyond it's casing laid the moist warm darkness of the catacombs which I had become so accustomed to all but a few months ago.

Taking a few deep breaths to give myself a small measure of much needed bravery, I grabbed the abandoned invitation and an oil lantern that I had put on my dressing table and stepped into the shadows. The small lantern gave off a small ray of light in the inky blackness and illuminated the stones covered in grime from years of dampness and dirt and the small fragments of dust clung in the air as my skirt carelessly forcibly pushed them off the ground where it had originally resided. Feeling my throat constricting a little at the dust that I was breathing into my lungs, I stopped and gave a good hard cough to get as much as of the offensive dankness out of my body as I could. Once my fit was over, I started my downward descent towards the man made lake. Within a matter of minutes I was standing near the wall that lead towards the lake. The water clapped against the stones ever so quietly and I lifted the lantern to see the sleek surface of the water and my eyes skimmed the glass like water to find the elaborately decorated boat that Erik had used so many time before.

For the next few moments I stood dumbly looking out on the wide lake and it occurred to me that the boat wasn't there, nor was it anywhere in sight of my eyes. I walked around the edge and felt an overwhelming sense of fear as I knew that there was a very good chance that I wouldn't find the boat. As I walked along the edge of the wall I sighed loudly and debated inwardly if my calling out to him would help in the least. I decided against it because I knew that with enough of a shock he could easily fall into another one of those horrible bouts of illness and I knew that by the way his last epileptic fit he couldn't physically afford to be ill again. He had always lead me to believe that he was immune to illnesses, perhaps even death, but if he were sick I'm not thoroughly convinced that he would be able to survive this time. When I reached the edge I looked down into the non ending darkness beyond and wondered exactly how cold it was and if it was very deep. Shaking my head at the mere contemplation of it, I turned back and walked the limited perimeter of the banks before swimming to the house seemed more and more a realistic mode of transportation than walking. Leaning down on my knees, I put my fingertips in the water and shivered. It felt absolutely glacial and I didn't relish the thought of getting wet. Shouldering off my heavy coat I looked at the water and couldn't help but frown. The water was so dark that I never knew how deep it was or at least I hadn't ever thought on the concept greatly.

Holding the invitation high above my head, I sat down on the edge of the water and put my left hand into the water. It was so cold it hurt my muscles, but I shook it off knowing that I had to complete my duty. Shutting my eyes at the inevitable chill that will cover my body, I slid my entire body into the water. Gasping loudly my breaths came into quick deep spurts as I came up after completely submerging my body. The water stopped just below my breasts, but I didn't know if it would get any deeper as I walked. My hair was damp and dripped down my neck. My body started slowly but surely growing numb and while the frozen sensations grew, the coldness grew less and less as my skin wasn't able to feel it anymore.

Taking a few steps, I felt a rise of fear as the water grew steeper and steeper as I continued to walk. It wasn't so much that I can't swim, as a matter of fact I can and rather well, but I wasn't certain if I would be able to swim and hold the invitation above my head without it getting moist. I managed to but once I reached the other side, I immediately threw the paper ahead of me by quite a few feet and then awkwardly clambered out of the water. My entire form dripped water…no, not dripped… it more or less poured. Grabbing as much of my hair as I could, I wrung the excess water out and then my dress followed suit. By the time I had squeezed out as much water as I was going to, I looked back down into the blackness of the water and something lurking off in the distance a few feet away from me in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Nodding up and down in the water was the black ornate boat. Shaking my head, I watched as a few drops of water fell onto the stone floor and sank into the grime. Reaching down to fetch the invitation while trying to avoid ruining it by getting it wet, I halted my task when something else caught my eye. The well hidden door that lead to the front room of Erik's home was opened ever so slightly. Carelessly taking up the invitation, I looked at the ajar door with a sense of dread. Never in my entire time with him had I ever known Erik to go somewhere without locking and closing every door in his home. Walking over to the entry I clinched my fist together and gave the door a few raps with my knuckles. After waiting at the very least two minutes and no answer came, I tried once more. Again there was no answer. Looking at the door and feeling all the lessons in manners my father had taught me leaving my mind completely I put my open palms against the wood and pushed. The door let out a loud creak and slowly opened as if it were un-greased and ill used. Instead of the inadequately lit room there was no light at all. The faint blue light from the lake gave off a small glow in the room, but it was still an insufficient amount of light for seeing, but it did give off enough light to show me a nearby candelabra.

After a few moments of searching I found a match and lit it, despite my damp skin and hair threatening to extinguish it before it even lit. Once I ignited the wick of the candle, I turned to the room and nearly dropped the candle altogether. The once richly decorated room in it's shades of black, blood red and cherry wood with it's beautiful relics from his travels around the world lay in ruins. Black candles, mere pools of wax or in shambles were strewn across the expensive Persian rugs destroying it beyond all recognition. The black couch had long gashes in it as if someone had taken a sword and attacked it, which was obviously the case. As I turned in a small circle, I saw that the grand piano that had once been a habitant of the corner of the room was a pile of kindling now. I looked at my feet and saw a few of the ivory keys scattered around the room. Putting a hand over my mouth, I felt as though I had stepped into some peculiar nightmare that was so realistic and yet so surreal, but the sounds of broken glass crunching under my heels as I took a few inelegant steps around the area of the room assured me that I was not dreaming. Once my shock had worn off, I walked over to the now demolished piano and leaned down to examine the damage more closely. The wood was splintered where pieces of it had been broken off and there were a few precariously placed keys that still clung to their original places. The strings on the inside had all snapped, looking like weeds growing out of a pile of wood.

Standing up, I looked over at the door where his room resided and took a deep breath. If he was to be found, I would more than likely find him there. It was his sanctuary. Whenever he was upset and, if my estimation was correct, and I have no reason to believe that it is not given the state of the room, he would most likely be found in there. Walking over to the door I tapped the door lightly and called out his name. As similar to the front door no answer was received. Taking it upon myself I grabbed the door handle and turned it. Tears pricked behind my eyes as I regarded the room. His one and only sanctuary, the place where he felt safe, had been destroyed. The large organ that lined the left side of the room had the same treatment as the piano did. He had a small cabinet next to it that he always stored away the music he had written away prior to locking it before I could have seen it. It was now laying negligently on it's side, it's contents spewed across the floor. I noticed that the fireplace in the room had quite a few of the compositions in it, the edge blackened and beyond saving or completely dissolved to ashes. The candle I had, which had been steadily dripping wax on my hand started melting away completely. A few inches away from me was the oil lamp he kept in it's room, the glass shattered and the oil was in a small puddle at the base. There were three oil lamps in the room he had provided for me and so I decided it would be best to go and fetch them before I had to stumble around in the dark.

I felt a certain amount of trepidation as I approached the door to my bedroom. I could never stand the sight of destruction and this would no doubt be in a worse state of obliteration than any of the other rooms I had encountered that far. I touched the chilly metal of the latch to the door and turned it slowly. Once it gave, I pushed the door open all the way and stared in silence at the dark room. Walking through the threshold of the door, I nearly dropped the candle at what I saw. The room was in the absolute pristine condition that I had left it in. Nothing had been touched! It was as if he hadn't even gone into the room at all. Turning around, I could still see the wreckage of the sitting room in comparison to my room and felt my cheeks flush as a wave of guilt engulfed me. He had destroyed every single room in the house except for mine. All of his music, his possessions were completely demolished beyond all hope of repair and yet my room was immaculate. Why would he do this? It was as if he knew I would come back and this was some morbid form of punishment for my deserting him. I couldn't help but shake my head at the absurdity of it all . Forsaking the oil lamps, I staggered out of my room and back into the main hallway. I felt deadened, as if the blood in my veins refused to move, completely frozen. My limbs were becoming numb as well. I felt as though I couldn't stand, but for some unexplainable reason could continue to stay fully erect.

My eyes inspected to room numbly, seeing but not fully comprehending what I was seeing. As I stood in the rubble of the room, I felt an overshadowing presence behind me. Turning on my heel, I looked at the dark form before me. Taking a few unsteady steps forward, I looked at the great black door before me. It was Erik's room. Walking over to the door, I pushed it open and gazed into the room apprehensively. The room was dim and slightly dusty from obvious disuse. Holding the light up to get a wider view of the room, I saw something that caught my attention with a fresh amount of dread and fear filling my senses: the coffin. If he was dead, he would be there. Looking down on the polished oak with the intricate design box that laid on the dais , I put my hands on the edges of the lid and pushed with all the force my body would allow. The heavy cover moved ever so slightly, but not enough to remove it entirely. The thought of seeing Erik lying dead in the crimson upholstered box made my stomach churn with fear, sadness and cowardice. If he was indeed within the confines of the coffin, I don't want to know. I couldn't bring myself to look. If I could leave Erik one thing, it would be his dignity. In my heart, I know he wouldn't want me gazing at him, or perhaps I should restate that by saying rudely staring. God knows he hated it so very much! My knees felt unsteady and weak, my eyes were heavy and I felt an oppressiveness in the air that threatened to choke me. There was room enough on the dais for me to sit and I took the space gratefully, willing myself to be stronger than the sorry sight that I was. Taking a few deep breaths, I turned and looked at the coffin nervously. Every emotion that I had been holding back for the better part of a year and a half came pouring forth and I found myself leaning against the wood, sobbing like a lost child. Perhaps that all I truly am, but whenever I was with Erik, I felt as though to some small extent I had part of my father back with me. He and Raoul were my last two living connections to him, yes it is true, but there were times when I was with Erik that I could almost feel as though my father was speaking through him. I knew at that minute that my father was gone forever. It was not a thought I had ever openly acknowledged until that moment.

I felt as if my eyes were permanently fixed on the heavy wooden box in front of me. The man that rested within… he was such a remarkable man. No man on this earth was ever his equal and to some extent he knew that. He had moments of pure arrogance that didn't go entirely unnoticed by me. He would often tell me of his architectural achievements, his knowledge of science and medicine, his travels around the world and his ability to write full scale operas as if they were mere novice play. I knew in that moment just what he meant to me. I loved him. Not in the romantic sense that he wished me to, but a love based on mutual respect, similar feelings, aesthetic appreciation for music and literature and most of all a strong sense of friendship. Laying my forehead against the wood, I felt tears on my cheeks, warm and unfeeling. I couldn't help myself and a short time later I was sobbing as I had when I was a child.

After I had cried myself into fatigue, I looked up at the box, no doubt red eyed and swollen cheeked, and laid my head against the smooth wood. I put my hand where his chest would have been and begged, "Please forgive me. It was never my intention to hurt you. I never meant to give you so much pain. This is all my fault. How could I have left you here by yourself, knowing that your health was deteriorating so rapidly? Please know that I had nothing but the utmost respect for you. You deserved the best life had to offer . I wish I could have given you more than I did. Please forgive me."

I know that, in my heart and soul, he forgave me. He is in Heaven, so much happier there than he ever dared hope to be on Earth. Slipping of the dais onto my knees, I turned my head to the ground and prayed more fervently than ever I have for my protector's soul and that God would grant him the mercy and release that he was so rightfully entitled to. When I had finished, I stood up on unsteady legs and continued to stumble around the underground home, taking in a full account of all the damage amounted. By the end of my inspection, I come to the conclusion that in all actuality the home wasn't in the horrible condition that I first perceived it to be in. Given enough work, the house could be brought back to it's former splendor quite easily.

Perhaps it is the madness of grief or a need for closure but I have resolved that starting tomorrow, I will start rearranging the life that Erik once held so dear by reconstructing and renovating his home.

t.b.c….


End file.
